Inside Story

Inside Story, twenty five years a chiropractor, and still so much to learn. It's a sample chapter from Bats in my Belfry by Dr Bernard Preston, DC.

I had enormous respect for the old man. One of my colleagues had
once whispered in my ear, ‘If you can’t get a back right, refer them to
Dr Coulter before you send them for surgery.’ He was right.
Chiropractic, perhaps like all of medicine and in fact life itself, is
an admixture of science and art, and he was one of those who had
perfected the chemistry.

Of course at seventy nine years of age, he had
been in practice for over half a century; my twenty seven, in comparison,
had a very miserly look about them. Most things, but not all, are
relative.

Nevertheless, I had to ask myself the question; would I be any
better a chiropractor after thirty seven years in practice, and after fifty?

What was it that would make me better? More science? Or conferences and seminars? Would lectures on the philosophy of
Chiropractic do it?

Bats in my Belfry

Bats in my Belfry is Bernard Preston's second book of chiropractic anecdotes.

When the invitation to dinner with Dr Coulter and his wife arrived I
was determined not to miss the evening. Helen and I dressed carefully.
She looks stunning in long dresses with bright, large floral patterns:
the deep pink Rhododendrons, laced with silver thread on a purple
background and my mother’s pearls did her proud. With her long legs she
looked lovely. Every man is proud when he can hum, as I did that
evening: Pretty woman, walking beside me… Gone were the short, black
party dresses that the maths student once wore. The occasion was
described as ‘smart casual’ and for once I actually thought about what I
was going to wear. Glider pilots for some reason are completely
disdainful of such things. Wereld se goed; we wear proudly of another
world which has its own sartorial ideas. Eventually I settled for grey
pants, smartly ironed with all the creases neatly showing down the
front, a long-sleeved white shirt and a dark navy-blue double-breasted
jacket and tie.

I had often mused over home practices. They have
their demerits… but the thought of not having to drive to work… and
owning only one car and my dream machine∗ would be more than adequate
for us. Only one telephone and one electricity bill. I sighed, starting
to add up the reasons why I should be moving my practice to High
Whytten. One rates account. Even if only half my patients were prepared
to drive up the hill, I would still be better off financially, and I
could do carpentry two afternoons a week! I was determined to see what
made Dr Coulter’s home practice tick.

We saw the sign emblazoned
at the door: CONSULTATION BY APPOINTMENT ONLY. Dr Coulter himself
answered the doorbell: ‘Welcome. Welcome my dear, you look splendid,’ he
said to Helen in the gracious way of a generation now nearly gone. A
few relics remain to remind the barbarians that there is another way of
living.

I noticed the half drunk glass of beer on the table next
to the door. Helen noticed it too. One of our rules was: Never start
drinking before the guests arrive and for me the first drink had to be
soft. Quite often the first two actually, because they don’t even touch
sides after a long day in the air. Helen gave me a meaningful glance and
raised an eyebrow. We had been over this ground before, many times:
Bernard Preston, on occasion, drank too much. That’s the problem of
having a carboy of mead bubbling in one corner of the kitchen and a cask
of beer giving off aromatic gurgles in another.

Inside Story

Inside story reminds us that every doctor has an inner life, quite different to what you see as a patient. He's just an ordinary person really.

Our host offered us drinks, but I noticed that he had only a glass of
sparkling water with a squeeze of fresh lemon and a few mint leaves.
Helen and I circulated in the small crowd of chiropractors and their
spouses, all of whom I knew well. It was interesting to note that nearly
half of the chiropractors were women. Some patients foolishly don’t
want a woman chiropractor. How can they have the strength to do what you
do? During my earliest days in practice I had noticed how my senior
colleague could adjust almost any back that I could. Perhaps once a
month she might send me a huge bear of a man who was too big for her but
it was no more often than that. In fact, I eventually realized that
women very often make better chiropractors than men, because they are
obliged to use skill and timing rather than brute force and ignorance.
Every South African can think of diminutive people like Gary Player or
the Rose of Soweto∗ who have become great sportsmen. They could hit a
golf ball or sting like a bee just as sweetly as any of the giants and
were often a lot faster around the field or the ring. Could unskilled,
overly forceful or thoughtlessly done Chiropractic adjustments injure a
spine? What a foolish question.

I stayed close to the old man as I
watched him being attentive to his guests. I thought to myself; I bet
he treats his patients with the same courtesy. Mrs Coulter was bringing
in traditional delights, and I noticed another younger woman, her
daughter in law as it happened, was helping. They had been hard at work
since early morning whilst I was out enjoying a halcyon day, soaring the
hot summer skies. Despite the fact we were colleagues, he thirty years
older than I, I had continued to call him Doc. Everybody did, even his
wife.

Dr Coulter brought the ladies each a glass of wine, a white and a
red from the fairest Cape, and I saw him pour what was no doubt his
first whisky; a half shot with plenty of ice. I matched him with my
first beer. My tongue was hanging out.

John, a colleague from the next village, button holed me. ‘You know,
Bernie, Jack Stott is taking the most appalling xrays. I asked him to
send me the file of a patient who had moved to Swartberg. If I had had
to mail out those films to a colleague, I would have made up some lie
and contrived to lose them. If the medics saw them they would tear
strips off us.’

I once had words with Jack Stott when he had first moved
to Shafton, and nicknamed him; his wife Noleen was, however, a
darling. She is Australian and, despite our disastrous introduction,
she and Helen had become firm friends. I heard Helen’s gay high pitched
laugh and, glancing over saw them enjoying a private joke. ‘To be quite
honest, John, I am considering selling my old machine for just that
reason. Now that the Rad labs will take xrays for us, and the medical
insurance will then pay for them, I suspect the taking of radiographs by
chiropractors will become a dying procedure. By the time I’ve paid for
all the expenses, I reckon my machine costs me money.’

John nodded. ‘Yes,
that may be true.’

‘On the other hand,’ I said, ‘chiropractors have
been at the forefront of developing new screens and filters. It’s
something the profession should discuss. I wonder which will be the
first college to take the dramatic step of no longer teaching
radiography.’

‘Oh, I doubt if it’ll come to that,’ said John, hastily. ‘I
really value how quickly I can get a set of x-rays. I would never part
with my machine.’ I thought of how I could get a set of films back, with
a Radiologist’s report, in a couple of hours. I would gladly ditch my
machine. I could then treat another couple of patients in the time it
took to take and develop those films, instead of having to work such
long hours. Adjusting spines was what excited me, not taking x-rays. I
held my tongue, keeping my opinions to myself for a change.

‘Mind you,’ I
went on, ‘I wonder if it’s not like computers. Just as they have
evolved, even dropping the floppy drives, and I suspect the CD drive in
the not too distant future, I have a suspicion that Chiropractic
education will evolve, and leave Radiography behind.’ John nodded but I
could see he wasn’t thinking about computers. ‘Are you saying that we
may soon have a Chiropractic college that will stop teaching x-ray? What
about reading x-rays.’ My colleague looked at me
incredulously.‘Stopping radiography, not radiology. We must continue to
excel at reading x-rays.’

‘Hmff! Quite a thought. What about the State
Boards? You could never pass them without being able to take
x-rays.’

‘Well, that’s obviously a problem but as the number of
chiropractors who actually take x-rays gradually drops, I suspect the
time will come. Just watch. As for your original question, John: Just go
to Jack, take him a drink or something and, in a very friendly manner,
tell him what you just told me. We all take bad x-rays sometimes, the
radiologists do too. I have had to send patients back for repeats
occasionally. When I graduated I still remember old Doc Hough saying:
‘Ask yourself this question with every set of x-rays: If I had to take
these to court, could I hold my head up high?’

We ran out of conversation and, as he made a determined move towards
Jack Sprat, I silently wished him good luck, and headed over to the bar.
I had seen Doc Coulter pouring his second half shot. I could use
another beer, I thought.

‘Now that we are all here, can I drink a
toast to the chiropractors of…?’ There was a loud knock on the front
door. Dr Coulter rose and I could see he was visibly irritated. Putting
his whisky down, he walked to the door and I watched him pick up the
half glass of beer. We couldn’t see who was there but we could hear the
loud voice. ‘Doc, I have a terrible pain in my back. It’s been agony for
three days and I just can’t face another sleepless night.’

‘Ah, sir,
normally I would be very happy to oblige, but I’m afraid once I’ve had a
few drinks I never treat patients. If you’ve had the pain for three
days, then I’m sure it will keep until morning. Would you mind phoning
tomorrow and my secretary will make an appointment for you?’The man
started to argue, but the old gentleman went on to give him a few
suggestions about ice packs and, if it really was that bad, he had
better get over to the emergency rooms. He then firmly closed the door.
He put the half glass of beer down again at the front door, and it
finally dawned on me: That glass lived there permanently. When I looked
at the glass later with interest, I noticed the fruit flies and a small
beetle floating in the amber liquid. Lesson number one for a home
practice: Learn to say NO when it’s important. Firmly, but kindly, and
always give an alternative. Later, I got to thinking about getting the
balance right between ‘I care’ and ‘I also have my private life’. It was
a juggle and, inevitably, one would make a fumble or drop the baton
occasionally.( Inside Story )

‘As I was saying: “A toast to the
chiropractors of East Griqualand, your spouses and to our other guests.
Make yourselves at home and have a wonderful evening.”’ He raised his
glass: ‘To our patients and the profession.’ There was a chorus from
around the room, and I thought to myself: What a fine toast. This man
really has the balance – our patients and the profession, in that order.
There were a few visiting chiropractors from neighbouring KwaZulu Natal
so, all in all, we were about twenty-five people.

After the
toast, the general hubbub rose again, but it wasn’t long before there
were angry voices from the far side of the living room. Everybody hushed
and turned towards the corner where John and Jack Stott were having a
spat.‘How dare you criticize my x-rays!’ Jack’s angry words sliced
through the convivial atmosphere. ‘There’s nothing wrong with them at
all. A damn cheek.’

‘Look, Jack, I was just trying to point out in a very
friendly manner that those x-rays you sent me were not very good.’

‘How
dare you say they were not good. That’s the last set of x-rays I’ll ever
send you!’

‘Okay, okay. I’ve said my piece. I had no intention of making
a scene. I’m sorry I brought it up here. I should have phoned you at
the office.’

‘No, you should not. No one has the right to criticize my
xrays, not here, nor over the phone. Just mind your own business.’ I
could see Nolene making her way over towards her husband, firmly taking
his elbow, and removing the drink from his hand. ‘I’m sorry; really I apologise,’ said my friend, backing away. He went over to our host, and I
could see him pleading for forgiveness for making a scene.

Mrs Coulter, wise like her husband, rang the bell even though dinner
wasn’t quite ready. ‘Time for supper, everybody, please make your way to
the dining room.’ Their billiard table, when turned upside down, made a
giant table fit to feast a king. It was beautifully set for the party, with
fresh flowers and napkins carefully folded in a fan. I did my bit for
King and Country and took the seat next to Jack. For once I was quite
sober, and determined to keep the peace. Noleen was sitting on the far
side of him, and I had encouraged Helen to sit next to her friend,
opposite me. They didn’t have much time to see each other and this was
the perfect opportunity.

Jack was muttering to himself; ‘Damn cheek,’ I could see him starting to look for a drink,
scraping his chair but I was much quicker. ‘Can I get you a drink, Jack?
You like a whisky with dinner, don’t you?

’Noleen glared at me, but I
gave her a wink. My favourite uncle had been a hotel manager and I had
learnt many of the tricks of the trade from him. One of them, he had
assured me, is that a man who has had too much to drink has no idea what
he is drinking. If he was really drunk, you could give him a glass of
tonic on the rocks and he would believe you if you told him that it was a
G&T. This was just the right moment to test his ideas.I went over
to the bar and, with my back to Jack, so that he couldn’t see what I was
doing, I half filled a glass with ice and soda and a tenth of a tot of
whisky. Taking half a glass of red wine for myself, I walked back to the
table, put Jack’s drink down in front of him and, to distract him,
raised my glass: ‘To our host and hostess, thank you for a wonderful
evening.’ My ruse worked. Jack raised his glass, took a healthy swallow
and was none the wiser.‘Thank you, Bernie, that was damn noble of you,’
Jack said.

The dinner was uneventful. Once he had an Eland steak
inside him, a healthy pile of roast potatoes and a spicy spinach roll,
filled with fried onion and melted Feta cheese, Jack behaved himself. We
actually had an interesting discussion about heel lifts, and I
reluctantly ended up promising to remove some bees from their roof. Mrs
Coulter was Dutch and we were introduced to a Limburg vlaai, a large
tart with a pastry base, cream cheese and honey filling, all covered
with a layer of East Griqualand cherries and a thick, sweet, cherry
sauce. Whipped cream was an option for those like me with no discretion.

After dinner I left Jack to the ladies. Guests were circulating
again, enjoying coffee and mint chocolates, and I wanted a word with our
host. ‘Doc Coulter, could I have a moment?’ ‘Sure, Bernie. What’s
up?’‘I’ve been in practice for twenty-seven years now but I still feel I
have so much to learn. Do you think I could spend a couple of hours
watching you treat patients?’

‘That would be a great pleasure. You are
just at the stage where I started to get on top of Chiropractic and it
began with two ingredients: first, how much you know you still have to
learn. That’s not easy for someone who has been in practice for as long
as you have.’ I nodded. ‘Someone once said: “Being good is the greatest
enemy of becoming great.” And secondly?’

‘Secondly, an enquiring mind,
and that I see you have. Give Joan a call in the morning and we’ll set
something up.’

‘Thank you, that would be wonderful. Secondly, I want to
apologise for that little fracas earlier. John asked me what to do, and I
suggested he do the honourable thing and approach Jack in a friendly
way. I thought it would be much better than a formal complaint.’

‘Yes,
that’s fine. Actually, I have also heard rumours about his shocking
x-rays. It’s your job as chairman of the peer review committee to do
something about it, isn’t it?’‘Yes, it is, and frankly I have been weak,
and avoiding Jack, because I know there will be a confrontation. Our
wives are friends but now I have to do something.’‘Yes, do it before he
blackens our good name here in East Griqualand.’ ( Inside Story )

Helen
and I bade our farewells, and made our way to the car, after making
sure that Jack and Noleen were heading in the same direction. There was
an awkward moment as Noleen headed for the driver’s seat, but I took
Jack’s arm: ‘Do yourself a favour, Jack, and do as the good wife
suggests. Good night, Stotts.’ I tossed Helen my keys and walked to our
car. I never looked back but as we were driving off I was glad to see
that Noleen was in the driving seat.

A full bladder and a dry
mouth woke me early next morning – I always seem to waken in the wee
small hours after a few drinks. I sat down and drew up a roster of peer
review visits to all the chiropractors in the province, writing my own
name at the top of the list. I wrote letters to two colleagues inviting
them to join me on the peer review committee, and they were numbers two
and three to be reviewed. Dr Coulter would be the chair of those first
three assessments. Jack Stott was next.

My visits to Dr Coulter were intended to last a month, but went on
for six until he very suddenly died. During those six months I learnt
much about the old man, his philosophy of life, the way in which he
practised, and how a home practice could be a functional reality.
Perhaps the most important was the day when he had been bitten by a
spider, and had a very painful wrist.‘Bernie, would you mind treating my
patients today, seeing that you are visiting?’

‘Why of course, Doc.’It
was an uneventful morning until the last patient. She was a small wiry
woman and I was quite unable to adjust her pelvis. After several
attempts, using eventually too much force, I gave up and she left,
protesting, in more pain than when she arrived.‘Sorry about that, Doc.
I’m not sure why I couldn’t adjust her back.’‘Yes, I’ve been watching
you all morning, Bernie. May I make a suggestion? Come and lie here on
the Pelvic Bench.’He set me up in the usual way but with subtle changes.
‘You are putting too much rotation into the spine. If you take your
contact here on the elbow, and take out the traction cephalad∗ instead
of with so much rotation, then I think you will have better results.
Remember to keep the patient’s leg straight, too.’ ( Inside Story )

Those
six months with Doc Coulter got me thinking. As branch chairman I
invited all of our members to spend a morning with a colleague every six
months. Jack Sprat and a few others refused but it wasn’t long before
other report- backs started trickling in, making me realize our richest
resource was our own members. It was another five years, though, before
that home practice in High Whytten became a reality. The call to do a
three-year stint overseas undid all my planning.

Inside Story is chapter two from Bats in my Belfry by Bernard Preston DC

Get it instantly on Kindle.

A life without medication?

The inside story is that your doctor is really just an ordinary person; he too needs to exercise his back, or he'll up in surgery, and stick to healthy choice food in the main, or he too will have a heart attack or get cancer. He too must take holidays, learn how to be still periodically, and talk to God.

That inside story is that it's just as important for him, or her, as for you; no more so, but no less either.

Plant a lime tree or just buy them; one daily should be on the menu. Lime nutrition.

Would you too like to live a life without medication? Or, almost totally
with medication? Really, it is a reality. It can be your inside story. I've
had two prescriptions for antibiotics, and no other drugs, in the last
eight years. And one was for a misdiagnosis. I had Shingles not
sinusitis. The other for an abscess after an inept dentist missed the
second canal in a botched crown.

How? you demand to know! Of course.

Start exercising EVERY DAY. Just how is your call. Walking, gardening,
swimming, cycling. Couch potatoes have only pain and drugs to look
forward to.

Start to eat a minimum of 5-10 coloured fruits, salads and vegetables every day. It's so easy.For example: An apple for breakfast.Hummus on bread for lunch. A salad for dinner. Update: 8 gives you 35% all cause of death protection.

Start a veggie patch in the garden this summer. Room permitting make your own compost pile, or a
COMPACT COMPOST TUMBLER and composting with small rotting sticks from the garden, and kitchen waste.

Eat predominantly low Glycemic Index starches. A side benefit is that you
won't get obese; perhaps, after smoking, those extra pounds are the greatest cause of pain and
suffering, disability and generally poor health; without exception.
GLYCEMIC INDEX and CARBOHYDRATE COUNT CHART ...

More useful links at Inside Story

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Consulting a chiropractor is little different to any other doctor; one can anticipate that he or she will take a history, examine you, perhaps order Xrays, make a diagnosis and possibly immediately st…